The Bed Sheets
by Bellatrixforevermore
Summary: Hermione is being abused at home. What happens when Draco Malfoy, as Head Boy, finds out? What happens when Harry and Ron find out? Will Hermione have to take abuse from all three? Read to find out!


Greetings, readers! I am new at writing fan fiction, so I may not be the best writer. Despite this, I am willing to hear any criticism you have for me, and I will usually be willing to listen to any ideas for changes. Hope you like it!

Chapter One

Hermione's POV

"Bitch! Get your sorry ass down here, before I beat the shit out of you!" my father shouted, his terrifying yet stupid-sounding voice ringing in my ears.

"Yes, father!" I replied as sweetly as I could, as an attempt to pacify him.

It didn't work.

"What the fuck, girl?! Is that fucking sass?!"

Oh shit.

"No, father."

I sprinted down the stairs as quickly as I could, which, mind you, was not very fast, due to the lack of food I was receiving. Standing in front of him, I raised my gaze to his disgustingly beautiful face, and tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Why the hell aren't the dishes washed?!" My father lowered his face to mine, and I smelled alcohol as he breathed heavily into my face. Disgusting man.

 _"Oh, well, perhaps it is because I HAVE A FUCKING LIFE!"_ I mentally shrieked, while on the outside saying with cool, calm composure, "Because I am an irresponsible, naughty little girl who is unable to get through her thick head that the only reason she was born was to serve perfect men such as you."

 _"Well played, Hermione. Well played,"_ I thought to myself, while giving myself a mental pat on the back and applause.

His expression seemed to soften, but not in the oh-I-feel-a-lot-nicer-now-because-I-finally-understand-I-am-a-total-and-complete-jerk way, but in the I-am-not-so-angry-I-could-kill-my-own-daughter-with-my-bare-hands-anymore way. He does NOT need anger-management classes. Nope.

"Go clean the fucking dishes, little girl, and get me a fucking beer right fucking now before I fuck you so hard you will never be able to fuck anyone ever again!" he roared, before plopping his perfect body onto the couch and falling asleep immediately.

 _"Good. Fucking alcoholic. Damn, I curse way too much. Ha, ha, just kidding, that's my father."_ I glanced at him, before shivering in disgust and terror (don't tell anyone), and making my way to the kitchen to do one of my, "One and only duties." Yeah, like that makes sense.

I scrubbed the dishes until my hands were raw, and placed far too many beers on the table next to him. Afterwards, I sat down and watched him sleep. He looked incredibly weird.

 _"You fucking creep! What the hell has gotten into you?!"_

 _"It's okay, everything is fine!"_

 _"Yeah, you keep thinking that."_

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I immediately covered my mouth with my hands, stifling a gasp as my father woke, his blazing eyes drilling holes into me.

Oh. Fucking. Shit.

"WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO, YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH! AND WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY BEERS?!" My father hoisted himself up, and shook my shoulders hard.

Yeah, this is the kind of intelligence we are dealing with here.

"I-It's right there, father," I said with a sickeningly scared voice, forcing my heavy eyes to widen and look up to him in fake fear.

"ARE YOU CALLING ME STUPID?!"

 _"You bet I am!"_

"N-no, father," I whimpered, lowering my gaze to the ground.

"I AM FUCKING DONE WITH YOUR SASS!"

Here we go again.

"GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!"

Oh no. No, no, no.

"Yes, father."

He tore off my clothes, and I made sure to make myself emotionless. He likes it that way. He looked at my body up and down, and I saw nothing but lust and disgust in his eyes.

 _"Yeah, old man. Be disgusted with yourself. You deserve it."_

After abusing my breasts, and trying to make me respond, he finally gave up, and positioned himself at my entrance. Out of instinct, I forced my legs out, and exposed... it. Ah, to hell with it, we are talking about my pussy here. He slid himself into me, and I kept my face blank. After he finally came, he did not bother putting his clothes back on, and simply trudged up to bed and fell asleep on sperm-covered sheets. I, on the other hand, being the clean person I was, took a nice, cold shower, and changed into clean clothes before falling asleep on the floor. Why?

Because of the one thing my father and I had in common. Because of that one thing we shared.

Because my sheets were also sperm-covered. My bed sheets were the ones my father was currently lying in. Yes, the great Hermione Granger is afraid of _those_ bed sheets.

What has the world come to?

Author's Notes

So, what do you think? Should I continue, or should I go die in a hole? You tell me!

If you have any suggestions for other stories, I will make sure to reply to you if there is a next chapter. If not, I will try to reply to you in my author's profile!

Thanks!

-Bellatrixforvermore


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